Truthful Tuesday: Moving On

Welcome to my first Truthful Tuesday, where I dedicate my post to telling the truth. I hope some of these truths can bring better perspective to aspects of yourself.

The truth is…

Writing this weekend’s story shares was one of the most emotional experiences I have faced with this blog so far. For me the breakup with the 5-year was a story that needed to be told before I can go further in many of my postings. I feel as if readers need a better background to understand where my blog is going. But for me personally it was so emotionally draining that it took me multiple attempts to write it. Going through detail after detail wracked my brain so hard that after about 5 minutes of writing I had to take a break. The knot in my stomach was growing each time I went back, but in my mind this post needed to be put out there.

After I had completed them and posted them I went back to read them one more time. Those two blogs are two I am extremely proud of. I feel as if writing them was very therapeutic for me. I see myself as a strong individual, that forcefully gets over things quickly mostly by blocking them out, but these posts made me remember and with that came pain. But with the pain came further healing.

It has been a few years since this all happened and I have dealt with most of the grief but writing these posts brought up more than I was expecting. I see it all as a good thing though. I see it as progress.

The truth is….

2 days after he left he changed his Facebook status to in a relationship with her and started posting pictures of everything they were doing together. After he left I lost about 20lbs in 13 days. I didn’t eat. All I did was sleep. I only dragged myself to some of my classes, ending up with low grades that semester. I was falling apart day by day and nothing could help me. I ended up in the hospital multiple times with severe chest pains, which I now attribute to dehydration and mainly heart break. I had no one in my life to talk to other than my mother, and she was being stubborn with trying to wipe him out of my memory. I needed my own time to heal and gather my thoughts. Icouldn’t be forced to move forward by anyone.

The truth is…

Moving on is the hardest, most grueling process you will ever know or face. For some moving on isn’t an option, for others it is not needed. Some may need days, other years, or others yet who need lifetimes. Eventually though through own self perseverance and strength I believe everyone has it in them to move on.

The most important part to starting this process is realizing that you are somebody. That no matter what, that person didn’t take you. You always had you. You might have been with them, changed who you seem to be, but when they leave you are still you. You might be bruised and broken, and shattered into a thousand pieces, but piece by piece you can rebuild yourself.healing

It took almost 2 years for me to get to where I am now. I am over him and what he did to me. I have grown significantly in the time since he has left. I am finally able to say I am proud of myself for standing on my own, for figuring out who I really am as a person, not who I was with him.

It takes time, serious, hard, time. But one day you will come out the other side better than you ever expected.

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Connecting the Dots

It was 3 months of waiting around for the rheumatologist appointment. 3 months of realizing my entire life was practically a lie, a lie told and set in stone by someone you should trust and depend on.

I was walking around on a day to day basis telling myself I don’t have POTS. It was hard and honestly it was weird. Every pain I had, every inability to complete a task, I never went back and associated it with POTS. It was something else, something yet undiscovered.

The cardiologist left us with the lingering thought that I might have some terrible nerve damage or some other extremely rare and untreatable ailment. But through research my mother and I came to the conclusion before the appointment that more than likely I had fibromyalgia. It was shocking reading articles online about the condition and how just with a quick google search the top 10 symptoms of fibromyalgia I had. Before the POTS diagnosis one of the things my mother was thinking was fibro but no one ever told us to pursue it. Now here I was 6 years later about to find out the truth and have a definite answer.

Going into the rheumatology appointment I had made a list, just a general “all the things I can remember that are wrong with me” type list. This time no stone was being left unturned and everything was being ruled out. The list goes:

  • Head tingling
  • Neck pain with/without headaches
  • Difficulty focusing eyes
  • Brain fog (memory & concentration; slurred/stuttered speech)
  • Face rash with chills
  • Elephant on chest
  • Rapid heartrate (heart feels “weird”)
  • Chest pain (worse when active)
  • Acid reflux and gastroparesis
  • Arm/hand rash (little clear bubbles & at random times)
  • Bathroom habits (half constipated or not normal)
  • Can’t feel feet/legs (sitting or at random times)
  • Cold hands and feet
  • Muscle spasms in leg, feet, back, arms
  • Chronic fatigue
  • Constant aches
  • Severe insomnia
  • Random pain like electric shocks in various locations
  • Chills and sweats
  • Dizzy spells

And that was just what I could think of off the top of my head that I have experienced in the last month on going. As I wrote it I felt this wave come over me like, oh my gosh am I messed up. I could think of no area where I was so and so “right”. But at the same time I felt like I was regaining some power in my life. I was about to go to a doctor that hopefully could help me and really look at this list with a brand new set of eyes.

Can I just say he is the nicest man. He comes into the appointment with his aged face and wrinkled hands and cracks a joke. He goes on to crack wife jokes about how he is a “bad husband” but all in good fun. But then he got down to business. I gave him the list after telling him my story and his first response was.

“Some people might look at this list and think these are all random, unrelated things, but I am looking at this list seeing a connection between each and every piece.”

I almost cried. I was so happy inside. For once it was recognition that I wasn’t making this up, it wasn’t all random, and best of all IT WASN”T ALL UNRELATED. The pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together.

The referring cardiologist suggested somethings for him to rule out and it was all done with simple blood tests. He was a little suspicious that I might have celiac but the results came back negative. In fact the results came back negative in everything. The only area was my thyroid which had me going to a different doctor to rule that out. After that was ruled normal, and just a skewed blood test result, it was time to give a final diagnosis. It was after all fibromyalgia. All the symptoms fit together, everything made sense, and it was time to discuss treatment.

For some people fibro seems like a grim diagnosis, and to my surprise it is so far from it. Like so so far from it. The first medication we tried was Gabapentin, which I could not handle on a higher dose so we switched to this magic medication called Savella. We have been figuring out the dosage and at this moment in time I am on a very low dose. I was having to severe side effects to continue upping the dose so for now it is on the lower end.

The first few weeks of taking it was a miracle. Literally a miracle. I woke up feeling WELL RESTED. I woke up PAIN FREE. I woke up feeling human. I spent my days like someone without all these things would do. I was normal. For the first time since early childhood I felt right. It didn’t exactly last long, but I can say for 3 whole weeks I felt alive again.

We started playing with the dose after 3 weeks and I crashed. The headaches were insane and I couldn’t really eat since the side effect of this medication was extreme nausea. So where I’m at now is getting my sleep issues resolved. My rheumatologist believes after I can have normal sleeping habits again we can play with the dose and prescribe maybe a counter for the side effects.

The hope is seriously there. Every day I wake up and believe that this year might be the year I finally get a handle on my medical issues. And with each appointment that passes my hope grows stronger and stronger.

hope

The Wound That Never Heals

This is a continuation of my journey with my father, read part one, part two, part three, or part four.
There are always consequences to your actions, even if you are just a child. I didn’t know what was going to happen next in regards to my father, in my brain I guessed taking the initial action would be enough. I would never ever have to face him again, I wouldn’t have to fear what was coming next. But I was young, and I was oh so naive.

The first round of court was focused on making my father out to be neglecting. Our first lawyer said the abuse claim wouldn’t hold up in court since there was no actual “abuse”. That was like a slap in the face, even our lawyer didn’t believe I was in danger. I was told what to say and how to say it, nothing which was actually true. Because I was a minor most of the talking was on my mother’s end since she held custody. But what doomed me was the fact I verbally agreed to do week on week off with my parents and both of them signed. Although it was not court officiated it was used against me that first round. We couldn’t even take the case past the lower judge since my lawyer royally screwed us over. So at the end of this I was forced to see my father as I was before and if I didn’t they would hold my mother in contempt of court.

But to my surprise my father didn’t want me. He of course didn’t say it in front of a judge because if he said that then the all mighty dollar would come back into play. By stating he didn’t want me he would be forced to pay child support. I couldn’t stand to be around him. And worst of all he was trying to make it seem like nothing happened, that I was overreacting to the entire situation. I would be lectured over and over. The family outing tripled. The car rides were excruciating. I had nowhere to hide. I was trapped and that was that. If I didn’t do everything he wanted I was psychologically messed with. The family friend would make comments about me to my face, then trade off to my father who would mock anything I do. The two openly discussed how horrible my mother was and that I was just like her. It was never ending. Then on top of that my father was pushing me further and further into the school nightmare. He would watch every homework assignment I had to complete. If I didn’t complete it to his likings well I better do it again, and again, and again. There was no asking for help. I did it right the first time or I was a failure. This was drilled into me until I broke down inside and knew I was a failure who would never be smart enough.

When I went to my mother for a second time I asked her if we could pursue the custody issue again but this time with a different lawyer. This time we won, we pursued the abuse issue and the courts dissolved the matter of me going there every week. My mother and him discussed on the phone how I would come over on weekends like before, and no fight was to be had. Those weekends were painful. Those weekends I shut off, I couldn’t stand to be in that house. I eventually stopped going because my father’s rage was clearly building again, and if he exploded in front of me again I just don’t know what he would have done. When my mother went to the court to have child support put back into place my father lost it. He was threatening my mother in front of two lawyers and a judge. Even his lawyer screamed at him to shut up but with no success. The last time I saw my father was that last day in court. He sat next to us waiting to be seen and tried to talk to me like it was any other day. He was unapologetic. He still thought I was making everything up. He truly believed my mother was the one doing all of this and that I was just following her lead. He had no idea what he had done and what he was doing.

I haven’t actually had any contact with my father since then, he had contacted me on three occasions and that was when he was about to go to jail for not paying child support. Every single time the bill was due he wouldn’t pay and when I turned 18 he just stopped paying all together even though in his marriage contract he signed to pay support until I was 23 no questions asked. He is currently 9k in arrears. For years after the last battle he would claim he was disabled and completely broke so that the court would pity him. He would show up with no shoes on and a walker, saying that his health is so horrible and he hasn’t been able to afford shoes in 20 years. He would fake a variety of ailments all to get his cost lowered. He would show up on purpose without any paperwork that the court ordered. The same man with a record collection worth over 100k. The same man with two cars. The same man that collects artwork from around the country. The same man that travels around the country for leisure. By the end of it all he was paying less than $200 a month for me. And even that was so much for him. For his own child with medical problems I was worth $200, and even then not even worth that much because he didn’t pay that money. The realization came to me years down the line that my father put on a charade just to get out of paying child support, but the game he was playing was my life and to him I was just a puppet.

He was vindictive. A year after contact was shut off he went into my college fund and withdrew 10k, the entire amount he had saved for me while I was living at his house. Because of the plan we had that 10k would be so taxed that you were lucky if you got back 1k. It was a slap in the face. Even without him in my life he would torment me. He called me on two occasions before court appearances saying he was on his “way out” and that we should “hug one last time”. His reason behind his so called death, a minor blood clot in his leg that was so minute not even the doctors would write him a note for the courts. He called again saying practically the same thing, just a different excuse.

And when I cut off my father I also cut off that entire side of the family. They knew how my father was, they saw what he would do and how he behaved. But I lost them too. A grandmother, an aunt, two uncle, and two cousins never to be heard from again. They could have reached out to me, and honestly I could have reached out to them but we didn’t.

The life with him as my father left me scarred, left me emotionally broken and in therapy for years but I regret none of it. What I did that day was something I needed to do on my own. It was the first time in my life I made a decision by myself for my own wellbeing. There are still days where I look back and question everything that happened, questioned if I did the right thing. But every time, even if it takes weeks to come to this conclusion, I realize that I did do the right thing. Someone who takes you for granted and abuses your trust, mental wellbeing, physical wellbeing and uses you as an object has no business being in your life. When I tell people my story I always get the “daddy issues” label and it boggles my mind. I think at the end of the day people need to dig deeper into who is in their lives and even if it their own flesh and blood realize that it is not okay to be abused.

It takes real courage and strength to exile an entire side of the family. It will haunt you forever. The emotions that come with doing this will cause all sorts of conflictions in your thoughts. My mind always creates scenarios where my father is a decent human being, where he isn’t the man that shaped who I was for the longest time. I have created my own defense mechanism where I just block out the painful barrenmemories. When I go to search for them they are no longer there. My mind becomes a wasteland and with that comes peace. I try my hardest to rid my mind completely of him, but what he did left battle scars that will never heal.